


The Wanting Comes in Waves

by ElenaT



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Behind the Scenes, Character Study, F/M, Love Triangles, Movie Spoilers, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenaT/pseuds/ElenaT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>UPDATE 24 DEC 2014 - Pt 2 is in the works... stay tuned!</b>
</p><p>Legolas Greenleaf had known infatuation before. He had been a young elfling once, not so long ago by the classification of his people. He was no stranger to being enchanted by a fair face, or lithe figure. The politics and temperament of his people, coupled with his royal status, prevented execution on these juvenile feelings. </p><p>Acting on them, much as a human or one of the lower class might, was absolutely unthinkable. Such a circumstance was laughable and not even in the periphery of his thought.</p><p>Infatuation, this he had known.</p><p>What existed between him and Tauriel.</p><p>That was entirely different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Decemberist's song of the same name.
> 
> I am very interested in subtle interactions between characters and what might have happened away from the viewers' eyes, so that is why I chose to write this.
> 
> I've read the Hobbit and LOTR series (though it's been awhile) and I did /some/ research: interviews about the movie, a few wikipedia articles about elves, etc. But my knowledge is obviously not very extensive so feel free to correct me if I get something crazy wrong that's not even excusable by fan fiction. Elves names/festival name (I couldn't remember what it was from the movie) taken from Elf name generators. No rhyme or reason to them.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Comments/concerns/critiques/gripes/moans/complains are always welcome!

Legolas Greenleaf had known infatuation before. He had been a young elfling once, not so long ago by the classification of his people. He was no stranger to being enchanted by a fair face, or lithe figure. The politics and temperament of his people, coupled with his royal status, prevented execution on these juvenile feelings.

Acting on them, much as a human or one of the lower class might, was absolutely unthinkable. Such a circumstance was laughable and not even in the periphery of his thought.

Infatuation, this he had known.

What existed between him and Tauriel.

That was entirely different.

He had known of her all his life - she, a few centuries younger, mere eye blinks in the lives of elves. The age difference was nominal - the equivalent of one child being born in May, the other in November. As the prince, he knew of all his father's subjects. The resulting acquaintance and growing companionship was organic and natural - she served under his father, and in a rare show of kindness, Thranduil took the young female under his wing some time ago.

Something else entirely had bloomed.

.....

 

Legolas was not sure how it started - was it a glance, a smile? But something had changed, a subtle murmur in the air, between them. At first he found himself desiring her company, taking small detours in order to be able to see her, if only a glance at a distance. More raiding missions were necessary upon the forest, as the spiders had been growing in number and size, and Thranduil smiled with what might have been pride as Legolas continued to volunteer for these missions.

Protecting the homeland and slaying such fell beasts was necessary and gave Legolas great pride. And seeing the Captain... well that was just another perk. Her face, fair and smooth, took on a light of its own when she was fighting. She was graceful, even for an elf, and her hunter's weeds fit her figure well. Most well of all he enjoyed her hair.

True, Tauriel was fair to look upon, even by elven standards, but the most striking feature of her was her hair, a bright burnished copper, very rare among his people. Not to mention she was a stunning warrior, promoted to Captain of the Guard within less than half of a millennia. The wheels were greased no doubt, so to say, in such a crude human expression, by Thranduil's influence, but favoritism aside, it was an amazing accomplishment. She also had limitless empathy, for her people and all other beings, which was foreign and exciting to him, as he had grown under the shadow of Thranduil who was a jealous and often spiteful king.

Legolas, for all his fondness of Tauriel, was painfully aware of his social status. While he harbored a (perhaps foolish) notion that the class taboo of pledging himself to a simple silvan elf was not catastrophic, he was aware of the slow courtship of elves (often spanning decades), and more pressing, the temperament of his Father. In this way, his feelings were unacceptable at this time, and so he tried to bury them.

It did not work.

Legolas was lately unable to stop his mind wandering at rest, composing longwinded sonnets to himself of Tauriel - Tauriel who was kissed by fire, Tauriel who wielded a bow just as well as the long knife or sword, Tauriel who was the forest in autumn, the purest celebration of harvest and life - Tauriel who channeled all beauties in the world, from starlight in features to the sun setting upon her crown.

He did not share his sentiments with the other elves. He was not a strong writer, and to the Men or Dwarves perhaps his verse may seem elegant, but to his own people it was the juvenile ramblings of a foolish love struck elfling.

He found himself alternatively avoiding and seeking her out.

They trained together almost daily during these latter times, and he was both ashamed and thrilled at the jolts of electricity that traveled through his body whenever she offered him a compliment, either in the form of a kind word or a slow smile.

Sometimes he felt her eyes on him during these times, though she would look away before he could catch her, and sometimes would smile to herself, as if she had a secret. In turn he found himself more playful around her, freed from the stoic shadow of his father. It was liberating in a way, to smile.

Elves were generally reserved, rarely showing physical affection among their own, at least in public. So when her fingers brushed his arm for a moment after he made six particularly impressive shots in a row, it was interpreted as a blatant flirtatious action, and he felt his heart leap up in his throat and later, found himself doubting it even happened.

Did she feel the same?

He found himself longing to touch her, to stroke her hair, but such a gesture was overly intimate and he had only seen it performed among bonded couples or family members. So it remained in his dreams.

She continued to touch him on occasion, but never again like she had the first time, and he doubted if it was all perfunctory, adjusting his fingers for him on a weapon when he was perfectly able to do so, or handing him something, touching his hand as she did so.

 

.....

 

Some months later, Tauriel suggested that they spar together, but Legolas politely declined, all too aware of the effect that she had on him. That did not stop him from sneaking to one of the tree bridges overlooking the training courts to watch her spar with the female elf Manwathiel that she had chosen in his stead.

The two elven women looked like they were in an intricate dance, and Legolas watched, spellbound, as they switched from blunted swords, to knives, and finally their bare hands. Manwathiel was just as graceful as her, but slightly larger, with more strength where Tauriel had speed, and they appeared evenly matched.

The two women continued their duel, drawing on a large audience.

Initially he regarded her appreciatively and neutrally, as a warrior might. Her form was superb. Her moves precise. She defended, attacked, reacted.

That all changed when Manwathiel lost her footing after a well placed kick to the shin, but instead of forfeiting, brought her legs around and tripped Tauriel down with her. Together they rolled and wrestled on the ground, looking more like ungainly humans than anything.

The elves watching began to murmur and some of the younger ones cheered.

Legolas's mouth had gone dry and his mind raced.

The match finally culminated when Tauriel had her opponent pinned, straddling the other woman's hips, and pulled a knife to her throat. She did not yell in triumph as a human woman might, but her expression was fierce, eyes bright and mouth curled into a warrior's grimace.

A bolt ran down Legolas's spine, realizing that it could have been him that was in that position. He felt the thought take root and knew it would occupy his mind for some time.

"I surrender!" Manwathiel laughed, and Tauriel laughed as well, standing up and offering a hand to pull her companion up. They bowed for the onlookers, the younger clapping appreciatively, the older nodding, and a few individuals in the back exchanging coins with grumbles as they had wagered upon the skirmish.

Legolas knew he should leave - all Tauriel had to do was look up to see him - or at least adjust his expression, but he was glued to the spot.

Tauriel did not see him, as she became deeply engrossed in conversation with a few members of the guard that had been watching.

However, Thranduil, watching from an even higher overlook, did.


	2. Chapter 2

It all changed when they captured the company of dwarves moving through Mirkwood.

Legolas was in good spirits after the skirmish; the forest was clear of spiders, he had spent the entire previous day with Tauriel, successfully captured thieving dwarves, and Ehtele'mele was tonight. Nothing was to perturb him this day. The ugly dwarf looking at Tauriel even amused him so, how one so ugly would dare to look at her like that.

Afterwards, reporting to his father the skirmish with the wood spiders, and the capture, perhaps there was a light in his eye as he told of Tauriel - how she had singlehandedly dispatched half a dozen of the beasts herself, saving one of the captives.

Thranduil looked thoughtful, his fingers tapping the arm of his throne languidly. 

"Ensure the captives are secured." Thranduil said, "Do not mistreat them, but do nothing to make them think they are..." here he paused, for emphasis "...welcome here. Have their leader Thorin brought to me in a few hours.

You are dismissed."

Legolas turned to leave and had barely crossed the threshold of the throne room when Thranduil's voice echoed behind him.

"Legolas, I have heard you are taking Tauriel as your guest to Ehtele'mele."

The younger elf halted, carefully adjusting the faint surprise on his features (How could he know? He asked her mere hours ago!) to appear bland before turning to face his father, who did not look unkind, but his icy eyes were probing.

"Yes, father."

Thranduil continued looking at him expectantly, and Legolas found himself feeling akin to a fly caught in the web of a spider while it regarded him with many eyes. This was an old technique of Thranduil that he had employed many times when Legolas was an elfling, waiting for him to elaborate further, and to trip himself up in the process.

Legolas did not fall for it, and said nothing, accepting the heavy weight of his father's gaze upon him. He was tempted to blurt, and fought it viciously, for he knew of his father's incoming disapproval... _Yes, Father, I am, and to be honest I have grown fond of her in my heart and..._

Thranduil, surprisingly, sighed, and broke his gaze.

"Very well then." He drawled, "I will see you both there tonight."

 

.....

 

Tauriel was not there. She had agreed to meet him at the door of the festival hall, but her spot stood empty. Legolas was not overly worried, certain she was inside, drawn in by the bustle going on; a goblet of wine, the beautiful music, or another elf wishing to talk. He traveled the celebration halls, searching for a glimpse of red hair, but still no sign of her.

She was not there.

This was so unlike her that Legolas could hardly believe it, and he walked the halls once, twice, three times more. It was slow going - as the Prince, there was much socialization to be done, chatting with important Elves here and there, drinking from a goblet that had been pressed into his hands here and there, hardly noticing when another elf would refill it for him.

He saw his father several times, and smiled at him faintly - most of the time Thranduil was occupied in deep conversation with other elves, but once he looked at Legolas in what almost seemed to be a smug way.

It would have deeply unsettled him if he didn't have more pressing matters.

Legolas found himself a quiet corner, somewhat isolated from the bustle of the festival, and sat down in one of the chairs to think.

Tauriel had seemed very enthusiastic of the invitation - all Mirkwood elves were welcome to Ehtele'mele, of course, but being the guest of the Prince of Mirkwood was afforded additional luxuries and better seating for the festivities. Legolas knew that it was her favorite holiday, and while there were no explicit romantic implications by bringing a guest, generally elves would bring only family members or spouses, especially among the higher class.

"I would love to go with you, mellon-nin." She had said softly with a smile, brushing his fingers with hers.

His stomach turned a lazy somersault just thinking about it, and he drank deeply from the goblet he was given to try to calm himself.

The elves' festival wine was different from their everyday wine, and was very strong - it was cut with drowsiness inducing herbs and further distilled down, so that it would actually have an effect on elves. He had lost track of how much he had been drinking exactly, but knew somewhere that he had transcended a faint buzz into a heavier, unpleasant feeling, and vowed to discontinue drinking for the evening.

In the meantime, he should find Tauriel. It was not in her nature to act like this. She had assured him she did not have guard duty this night. Perhaps she was merely late, or had expected him to meet her at her quarters or perhaps she was even outside...

Despite the drink, his senses and limbs were no less alert and lithe - he sat up and set for the door and soon felt eyes on him.

Legolas looked up to noticed his father across the room, staring directly at him, again wearing that strange, smug look.

It would not do to ignore his father, so he set his course towards him, and the look must have been his imagination, for Thranduil greeted him warmly.

"Ah, Legolas. My son. You are looking very handsome indeed." Thranduil said, looking him over carefully. It was true - the Prince was wearing his finest tunic, silver and white, with even Mithril stitching upon the breast. He paled in comparison to his father, of course, who was wearing impossibly ornate robes. Legolas thanked him for the compliment.

"Have a drink with your father."

Thranduil pressed a full goblet in his hand, raising an elegant eyebrow when Legolas begged off.

"Father, I must be going-"

"For what errand I wonder?" Thranduil mused, looking at him wryly. He did not mention Legolas's lack of companion, though gave a perfunctory glance to the empty space beside him. "You _must_ stay at least for the music, they are about to start-

"Father, I must be going. I need to check on the next guard shift." It was not entirely a lie, Gwaedhon and Ialon would be on shift tonight, and while admirable warriors, he would not trust the young elves as far as he could throw them. Perhaps Tauriel had the same thought, she did complain often of their drunken rowdiness, very unbecoming for elves.

Thranduil looked at him calculatingly. "At least have a drink with your father before you leave."

This was an order, and Legolas knew not to protest. Thranduil raised his goblet, and soon everyone in the room followed suit, prodding their companions to silence.

"To Ehtele'mele. To Mirkwood. To my son, Legolas." he intoned in high silvan.

"To Ehtele'mele. To Mirkwood. To Legolas." the elves repeated.

"Let us drink."

"Let us drink." Legolas and the rest of the room echoed.

He linked arms with his father as per tradition, and both drained their goblets in one go, to flourish applause from the rest of the elves.

Legolas realized the second it burned against his lips that this was no ordinary wine, not even the strong festival variety, in his goblet. He suppressed a grimace as it burned angrily down his throat to bloom in his stomach. The world seemed to jolt suddenly on its axis. It took all his concentration to smile at the elves applause and not look like he had taken a punch in the gut.

"What wine was that, Father?" he nearly gasped, once their audience had dispersed slightly.

"New vintage." Thranduil said dismissively, and was looking at him again, an odd expression on his face.

"I am saddened that you cannot stay. But..." here he paused, sighing extravagantly, "... if your duties dictate it, so be it. You have my leave to go."

 

...

 

By the time he exited the hall (a significant task as he had many goodbyes to say), he was stumbling drunk, and gave thanks that all were occupied at the festival upstairs or at their duty stations.

It would not bode well for anyone to see the Prince of Mirkwood in his current condition.

His head was buzzing, his limbs unsteady, and his feet heavy. He could taste bile at the back of his throat. This was a shameful condition to be in. He had never been this disoriented in his life - only coming close once, when, as a young elfling, barely past his 63rd birthday, he had snuck into his father's cellars. He was sick for days afterwards and the punishment was severe.

All thoughts of searching for Tauriel, and the strange behavior of his father, for that matter, fled from his mind. He was too drunk. He needed to get to his quarters before someone saw him. _And told his Father..._

He opted to cut through the dungeons to reach his quarters. Although the possibility of running into another elf at this time was slim, this would halve it.

It was not a far walk, but it was slow going as he had to lean against the wall and stumbled several times ( _unheard of_ for an _elf_ to stumble!, he thought angrily), stopping often to catch his breath and stop his vision from spinning. The torch lights were far too bright and they hurt his eyes.

Legolas was halfway through the dungeons when he heard a soft voice from below, and froze. He would have recognized that voice under any circumstance. His heart sank into his boots.

It was Tauriel! She would see him like this!

She had already heard him, no doubt, her senses were keen and he was in no condition to be quiet. Silence stretched down below, and discovery was certain.

However, that was not so.

A moment later, he heard Tauriel, "So tell me of your people."

A deeper, unfamiliar voice answered cheerfully, "What a loaded question! Tell me, what do you want to know? The good, the bad, the ugly?"

The familiar sound of Tauriel's musical laugh echoed around the chamber and this broke the spell keeping Legolas pinned to the wall. He edged closer to the sound, concentrating on keeping his steps silent. His brain, muddled as it was, was racing.

This did not make sense... Tauriel... missing Ehtele'mele... for...?

What he saw nearly shocked him into sobriety.

Tauriel sat upon the steps by one of the dwarves cells, and was conversing with the dwarf inside - the one that had been staring at her, no less, Legolas noted bitterly - in a friendly manner.

 _Friendly?_ Legolas would have growled.

It was _intimate._ The way she leaned towards him, listening raptly, hanging onto his every word. He had no care whatsoever for what the dwarf was saying, but the way Tauriel was _looking_ at him enraged him... The way she was _smiling_ at him...

He needn't have worried about her hearing him, she was so occupied with the dwarf, he noted bitterly.

Jealousy hit him like a wave, an ugly feeling blossoming in his guts. Then came anger, he was absolutely _furious_ that he was jealous... of a _dwarf_... of all things.

He had no claim on Tauriel. But he _was_ fond, so very fond of her, and now she was looking at the dwarf the way she would look at him sometimes, but for the dwarf she was the sun and for him, a mere candle.

A _dwarf?!?_

It was disgusting. Taboo. Out of line. Elves did not associate with dwarves, when they could help it... Surely did not talk to dwarves that way... especially dwarf captives... or look at them like that... or... or...

Tauriel was laughing again and it tore Legolas out of his thoughts. Now the dwarf was teaching her words from his crude language, and she repeated them airily, the beast's foul tongue spoiling her perfect voice.

He grimaced and clenched his fists, wishing for his bow. His knife. If he had either he would have liked nothing better at this moment to put an arrow through the dwarf's eye.

Tauriel reached forward suddenly, her hair spilling across her back, touching the dwarf's hand with her own, and at this, Legolas's heart cracked. He tasted the bile at his throat again, and wanted nothing more than to turn away, as every second watching pained him, but was powerless to do so.

She had not changed this night - still wearing her guard's greens from earlier. She must not have had any intention of meeting him at all upstairs.

Instead, he thought angrily, she had pursued other company... of this _dwarf... a prisoner... a dwarf!_

Legolas was not sure how he did it, but he tore himself away from this travesty, stumbling on his way.

Tears brimmed at the corner of his eyes, and he did not bother wiping them away.

He was heartbroken and past caring.

Now he wished for another goblet of that foul wine, if only to wipe this memory away.

Somehow he made it to his quarters, and bolted the door behind him before casting himself on the bed. It was barely used and more of a formality - elves did not sleep like Men or Dwarves. He did not bother to remove his festival finery or even unlace his boots.

When he closed his closed his eyes, all he could see was Tauriel and the dwarf.

Opening them did not help.

He laid there in the dark for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I anticipate perhaps 3-4 more chapters.  
> I hope everyone likes Thranduil. He is a very fun character to write. I see Legolas as somewhat naive and sheltered when it comes to his father, and since this is in Legolas's viewpoint, I couldn't explicitly talk about Thranduil's sneakiness/scheming but I hope it got through anyway ;)


	3. Chapter 3

It was true that elves did not sleep in the same manner that a Man or Dwarf might - but with the added effect of the alcohol, Legolas had drifted off eventually into a sort of heavy stupor, and was painfully roused some hours later by a frantic pounding at his door. He likened each blow into sending a sharp knife boring into his temples.

The pounding gave way to hurried rattling. Someone was actually trying to enter his chambers!

His irritation at this awakening was tampered with relief that he had remembered to bolt the door - his visitor did not need to see him in his current state - heavy eyed, sprawled out unceremoniously in his festival finery, looking like a common drunkard.

"What do you want?" he snapped angrily. The frantic rattling immediately stopped, and Legolas realized with a jolt of regret that his visitor could be anyone from his father to Tauriel. He frantically sat up, attempting to smooth his hair and clothes.

"Prince Legolas!"

Female voice. Not Tauriel. His shoulders slumped in relief.

"Go on, please." He leaned forward to massage his temples.  
  
"Prince Legolas-" she continued, "The dwarf captives have escaped on the river. Captain Tauriel has taken the guard after them."

His entire body stiffened, recalling the events from last night. How he wanted nothing better to put an arrow in that dwarf's eye. How Tauriel was leading the hunt for them. She would not let them go, that was far above her... or was it? After all, he thought conversing with dwarves was far above her as well...

"How long?" he asked her.

She must have sensed the change in his voice, for she hesitated before speaking next, "Three minutes... They will catch them at the gate. They will not get far."

No they won't, He agreed internally, already up and moving, shedding the Mithril tunic in favor of his patrolling greens.

 

.....

 

Legolas hoped for a quick, neat capture as soon as they closed the gate. The dwarves were unarmed and outnumbered - a squad sized element of Tauriel's guard traveled on the riverbed, already fanned out into a wedge. Combined with the pair of guards at the bridge, it would be simple to retrieve the prisoners, once they had been funneled in.

He relayed this plan to Tauriel, who nodded, already two steps ahead of him.

He noted she seemed thoughtful and quiet this morning, far from her usual spirited self. The difference was more garish when compared to her troops, who were heated and eager to bring back the prisoners who had caused so much mischief.

Even Legolas felt in fine form, his limbs as light and agile as usual, the only thing remaining from last night's events being a faint headache and a bubbling malcontent.

_Did she wish the dwarves escape?_

That thought threatened to open a whole host of others that would not do to ruminate upon during the mission at hand, but it did not stop him from watching her carefully as she paused to scan the riverbed.

Her eyes were stony, but there was something else hidden in them, and that disturbed him.

 

.....

 

Their point man, Ialon, spotted the dwarves first and gave a whoop.

"There they are!"

The dwarves (in barrels, no less! that explained quite a lot!) were perhaps six hundred meters down the river from the approaching squad, but only two hundred or so from the bridge.

Legolas allowed himself a moment of amusement at the ungainly, clumsy way of their travel, before realizing the severity of their situation. The current was running fast - They would catch up to them quickly but not quickly enough to intercept them. Once they had passed the bridge, it would be more difficult to retrieve them as the current grew faster still.

"Close the gate!" Legolas bellowed. Tauriel echoed his order, and a young elf on their left flank pulled a small horn from his belt and sounded it. The larger horn inside Mirkwood sounded in answer a moment later.

The guards at the bridge, roused by the great horn, leaped into action, pulling the lever to bring the steel grate down into the water. It went exactly according to plan - the dwarves were neatly funneled underneath the bridge, their barrels bouncing against each other and them cursing at each other in Common.

The guard reached the bridge and consolidated into a half moon shape upon the bank, awaiting further instructions.

Legolas smiled and addressed Tauriel, who stood at his shoulder, "So much for the scheming of the dwarves."

She remained stony faced.

That was when the black-feathered arrows fell - one catching Ialon squarely in the throat, another burying itself into one of the bridge sentry's thigh.

A second later, the orcs attacked.

 

.....

 

Legolas was no stranger to battle, or to killing orcs. He sometimes crossed paths with them during his infrequent travels, but he had never seen so many in one place before.

More alarmingly, they never had been so bold as to venture into Mirkwood as long as he had been living.

Everything began to happen very fast.

Ialon fell with a rasp, and somewhere another elf screamed as an axe pierced his back. Legolas fired upon the orcs indiscriminately, numbly acknowledging these casualties. He noted a commotion at the bridge - both of the sentries had been slain, and the orcs were trying to get under the bridge to get to the dwarves.

He shot a few of them but soon became engaged at close quarters with a number of orcs who crossed the bank and were advancing on the guard. He spared a glance to his comrades - the two elves fighting beside him were Gwaedhon and Manwathiel - he could barely recognize them, blood covered their dark hair and was smeared upon their faces. He hoped it was orcish and not their own.

The dwarves suddenly began shouting in unison, and pulling his knife from the orc he just killed, it drew his attention.

"KILI!" they were bellowing. "KILI! KILI! KILI!"

The source of the commotion was revealed as one dwarf clambered onto the bridge and headed for the lever in order to raise the gate, fighting orcs as he went. Legolas instantly recognized him as _the_ dwarf. The one that had been talking to Tauriel. The monster had a name.

A second later, there was a hollow 'thrum', audible to elf ears even over the sound of battle, and a crossbow bolt buried itself in the dwarf Kili's leg. He went down with a howl, and the dwarves beneath him screamed in commiseration.

Legolas looked around frantically for the shooter. By the time he saw him, an evil goblin looking creature, he had another bolt loaded and was about to fire. Legolas had his own bow halfway to his shoulder when an arrow hit home in the orc's chest.

With a furious cry, Tauriel launched herself on the bridge right in the middle of the orcs, loosing arrows as she went. She hit the ground in a crouch and spun, hair billowing behind her, taking a protective stance above the fallen dwarf, and delivering an arrow straight to the face of the orc about to axe her.

The orcs that were harassing the dwarves swarmed towards her.

In the commotion, Kili the dwarf had managed to make it to the lever again. Legolas drew an arrow to his bow and aimed carefully, knowing a nonlethal shot to his arm or leg would disable him and be all he needed to recapture the dwarves. Even so, he hesitated.

A moment later he noticed an orc reaching for Tauriel's hair. He felt like he had been doused in freezing water. Such a move would be lethal to her - his mind provided a unwelcome vision of her neck being yanked backwards and an axe buried in her skull.

He fired half a dozen arrows upon the orc, one after the other, hardly aware of what his fingers were doing. All hit their mark, within half an inch of each other upon the orc's stout neck. It crashed to the ground like a felled tree. Tauriel continued fighting, unaware of the danger that she had been in.

Several things happened in that moment - the dwarf Kili had succeeded in opening the grate in Legolas's distraction, and the dwarves were making much commotion as they began to be battened downstream. Tauriel slew her final orc. The few orcs remaining- some with arrows embedded in their shoulders or shanks, fled after the dwarves with a howl.

Legolas ran towards the bridge. The guard was already gathering their casualties and setting up security. There were five dead elves from the attack, and twice as many injuries. There had been perhaps thirty orcs. Legolas felt a deep sadness as he looked upon the bodies, Ialon in particular, who was barely a century past an elfling.

Tauriel stared over the bridge down at the commotion below, looking fierce and sad and beautiful all at once. The dwarves were several hundred meters away, but with keen elven vision it was possible to see their tiny barrels careening in the rapids. More worrisome were the larger shapes of orcs darting in and out of the foliage by the riverbed.

There was a small cut high up on her right cheekbone that caught his eye, but she otherwise was uninjured. Elves healed very fast. It would be gone by nightfall.

 She locked eyes with him and all was understood.

"Take our fallen back to the palace. Alert my father. Save a handful of arrows for yourselves in case you ambushed. Give the rest to Captain Tauriel and myself. We will go after them ourselves."

"Lieutenant, you are in charge." Tauriel added. The elf nodded and adjusted his helm self consciously as if feeling the weight of the responsibility and began delegating orders to the remainder of the squad.

The guard murmured consent, and set into action, distributing the arrows and collecting the dead to return to the palace. It took less than two minutes.

"Do not come after us. We will return." Legolas assured them as they departed. He felt Tauriel's gaze upon him, and met her eyes. Slowly she smiled, though it did not extend to her eyes.

"We will make them pay." she said, trying to make her voice as neutral as possible, but he could still sense an undercurrent of emotion within it.

"They will regret the day they came to Mirkwood." he agreed, and next did something that surprised him. He clasped her briefly on the shoulder, much as he had seen human warriors do to other human warriors. He had seen them do this to offer comfort and so felt no romantic intent or nervousness about the action. She appeared startled, but then smiled, and covered his hand with her own.

It wasn't until they were moving down the river and he felt her eyes upon him that he realized the brevity of what he had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has read this far, and commented/bookmarked/left kudos. It's great encouragement that other people are enjoying reading this and a great kick in the ass for me to keep working on it. ;)
> 
> Let me know what you think about the action scene. I tried to solve two of my movie pet peeves in there - Tauriel's impractically long hair, and magically regenerating arrows.


	4. Chapter 4

Legolas and Tauriel caught up to the orcs in a matter of minutes. The foul creatures seemed singularly focused on reaching the dwarves and were closing the brief gap between the barrels, and so between the two elves, half of dozen of the orcs were slain before they even realized the elves were tailing them.

Even so, the elves seemed to be of little importance to the orcs, and they only reluctantly engaged them, so concentrated on the dwarves. Legolas noted this information and filed it away for later. For now, it worked to their advantage and they were making short work of the enemy, much like the first hard sun of spring would melt the frost.

Not that the dwarves were sitting ducks, by any means.

 Loud, ungainly (and ugly) as they were, they had managed to arm themselves with the orc's weapons and were fighting vigorously from their position on the river. Legolas was slightly impressed, despite himself.

He watched a particularly fat dwarf disarm an orc and then embed the creature's very own ax into its kneecaps a moment later, and a faint smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, even as he let an arrow fly into the chest of an orc on the opposite bank who was stringing his crossbow.

Tauriel had run ahead, and was picking off orcs by the riverbank with practiced ease. Her head was constantly turning, her hair streaming behind her and obscuring her profile, but he knew she was scanning the waters.

Trying to pick out the dwarf Kili, came an unwelcome thought.

Legolas experienced an unwelcome dart of jealousy.

This dampened his spirits slightly, but was pushed to the back of his mind a second later as the severity of their problem was quickly apparent.

It was as if a scale had been removed from his vision, and his pale eyes grew wide as the full scale of their predicament was upon him. These orcs were _not_ just remnants of the platoon that had attacked them in the bridge. There were far too many, and they were on both sides of the riverbank, not just traveling with the current, but also _waiting_ for the dwarves to reach _them._

He counted 23 of them moving on the far side of the riverbank in less than a minute, keen elven eyes picking them out against the trees, even as their grey skin and armor offered some camouflage against the rocky terrain.

How _long_ had they been in Mirkwood? How _many_ of them were in here? _How_ did they escape their notice? How did they cross the borders? Why were they only after the dwarves? _Who was leading them?_

The last question was the most pressing - orcs were not intelligent, and would never band together in these great numbers for a singular task unless something... _someone..._ was guiding them.

These thoughts disturbed him and almost brought him to distraction, but the vision of Tauriel recklessly bounding forward and engaging three orcs in a knife fight just as one made a pass for a barrel, was enough to break the spell, and send him rushing to her aid.

 

.....

 

They continued traveling, fighting the enemy as they went, and soon reached one of the few landmarks of the river perhaps a mile later.

Legolas made short work of the lone Orc that had positioned itself on the rocky overlook, and kicked the creature over the edge into the river, before surveying their position. The river here dropped perhaps forty feet into a rocky waterfall, widening and quickening as the water pounded downstream.

Half of the dwarves had already descended the waterfall and cleared the rapids, and to his disbelief and absolute wonder, he watched the rest of the barrels crest and go over the falls (their occupants protesting spiritedly, very loud even over the roar of the water), and each and every one bobbed from the foam intact, somehow avoiding the rocks and rapids peppered at the bottom.

The water deafened all sound, but he could still see orcs continuing their pursuit on the far bank after the dwarves, now losing ground when faced with the increased current. The dwarves would be at the mouth of the lake before the current slowed, in little danger from anything but orcish arrows.

Here their path ended. He knew this river as closely as the back of his hand, and it did not narrow to allow crossing for several miles. He could not take on an unknown amount of orcs with just Tauriel, let alone with no provisions or arrows.

The back of his neck prickled. Something was here.

He heard two hollow 'thrum's, a sound even the youngest elfling would know in his sleep - arrows loosing the bow.

Too late. Even so, instinctively, he turned, being pelted with splinters as he did so, and saw Tauriel and the orc. The foul creature's bow was aimed right at him, and it was already making to reload.

She screamed, and it was terrible and like nothing he had ever heard from her before, and shot arrow after arrow at the orc's very bow, splintering and shattering it into pieces.

The gravity of what she had just done - shot an arrow out of the _air_ with her own - was not lost on him, and he felt suddenly numb with the realization of how close mortality could have been.

His hesitation was no matter - Tauriel closed the distance between her and the orc and had her knife upon it's throat upon seconds, her muscles already tensing to slash.

"Tauriel. Tauriel! _Stop."_ he ordered, his voice admirably even for how shaken he was.

She slowly seemed to become aware that he was addressing her, and looked up. Her expression was truly feral, eyes wild and teeth bared in a grimace. A small trickle of blood was already running down the orc's neck, so tight was the knife at its throat, and her hands were quivering slightly with the exertion of maintaining that pressure.

"Do not kill him. We will take him back to my father. For information."

For one horrifying moment she did not react, and then her face softened and fell, more akin to distress now. Her grip on the knife remained the same.

"As you wish, mellon-nin." she said, unable or unwilling to hide the tremble in her voice, before addressing the orc in Common with a snarl, "One wrong move, creature, not even _he_ can still my hand." She tightened the knife with emphasis, and the rivulet of blood thickened, the orc whimpering in fear and pain as his eyes wildly rolled in his head. Despite himself, Legolas felt a grim sort of satisfaction that she exhibited such a visceral reaction towards him.

Legolas sensed their captive would not be a problem.

It was short work between the both of them to disarm him and bound his hands.

He addressed Tauriel, "We must hurry back. We are poorly equipped to handle more of them." He switched to high silvan, to guarantee the orc would not understand. He was not taking any more chances. There had been far more of them today than he was comfortable with.

"Yes." she agreed. He walked past her, farther up on the overlook, to check what he could of their route upstream. All appeared clear, and when he returned to her side, she was looking at him, distress still apparent on her features, and even moved her arm reflexively, as if to reach for him as he passed.

"I'm fine, Tauriel. Thank you." he said quietly, trying to put as much as he could in the words.

He smiled at her and after a moment, she returned the sentiment.

Tauriel opened her mouth as if to say something, but seemed to think better of it, and instead just stared at him for a moment more, before turning to their captive.

"Up front, you." she barked in common, and the trio stepped off.

Legolas took rear guard, and did his best to keep the mission at hand foremost in his mind. It was difficult work, as they travelled unmolested, allowing his mind to wander. His heart was heavy with the thought of the dead waiting back at the palace, and deeply troubled by the numbers and behaviors of the foul beasts in his homeland, not to mention the close call with the orc's arrow. He also did not look forward to the impending meeting with his father.

Despite all this, there was a silver lining.

 His thoughts would not stop drifting to Tauriel - furthermost, the ferocity that she had defended him with, and he found himself secretly pleased. He caught himself a few times simply staring at her as she traveled in front of him, admiring the way her breeches fit her legs or her hair caught the light.

She was an excellent warrior and Captain. Beautiful. Impulsive. Fierce. Rash and reckless at times - something that was generally not praised among elves, but today it was what he owed his life to, and one of the many things that made her dear to him. She freely displayed emotion, and it was refreshing among his people, to be with one who spoke freely and acted freely and did not put on social veils for the comfort or benefit of others. She was free in a way that he was not, and it was impossibly attractive to him.

The dwarf Kili and the events of Ehtele'mele seemed far from him at this moment, and if his step was but a little lighter for it, who could say?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got a bit away from me and so I split it up into two chapters. So... now there will be 6 or 7 chapters instead of just 5.  
> Let me know what you think! :)
> 
> Ps - someone linked me this video... let's pretend Thraunduil's "leave Legolas alone" conversation with Tauriel went like this: http://youtu.be/KAJ_YCe4YsM?t=6m45s


	5. Chapter 5

"Tell me... what were you and your... fellows... doing in my forest?" Thranduil asked the orc, pacing his throne room. His voice was silky but there was a razor-sharp edge behind each word.

They had been at this for almost an hour with little results - Legolas had a firm grip on the orc, standing directly behind it, his longknife pressed to the creature's throat. Tauriel stood off in a corner, as did a pair of her guards.

Legolas would have liked nothing better than to trade positions with her - being in so close proximity with the orc was quite frankly, disgusting. Its body gave off an unnatural amount of heat, and its muscles would twitch every so often, which turned his stomach. Not to mention, it smelled.

This was not the only thing bothering him at the moment. Truth be told, Legolas was exhausted. The elven aptitude for physical toil was large and had yet to be reached, but the mental load of the past day's events weighed heavy on his mind. Now that he and Tauriel were within the palace walls and out of immediate danger, the death of his kindred occupied him the most - had he been an older, wiser elf, the orcs in the forest would be the most pressing concern, but the deaths he had seen among his kind had been few and far between - he had never known an elf to be slayed by a simple _orc,_ of all things, much less _five_ on one day.

"I believe I asked you a question." Thranduil said, after the orc gave no response. He continued to pace, holding his arms behind his back.

The orc whimpered and muttered something in its foul language, then gathered its courage and hissed clumsily in Common, "Won't tell... nasty elves... anything..." The beast even had the gall to chuckle.

His father stopped his pacing, midstep, and though Legolas couldn't see his face, he could read his father's anger in the stiff posture of his back, the stillness of his muscles. He recognized this as a sign, and boxed the orc upon the ears and pressed his blade a bit more into its throat.

"Tell him everything! Or I'll open you up from ear to ear!" Legolas snarled. It was crude, but effective. The orc began a hysterical sort of sobbing, its body hot and feverish. A steady wave of revulsion passed through him and he desired nothing more than to be far away from this creature, but he retained his grip.

Thranduil did not react, merely looked off at a pillar in his chamber as if it was of great interest to him, and then continued pacing as if nothing had happened.

"If you answer all my questions, _orc,_ ” Thranduil spat the last word, as if it fouled his mouth, "I will let you go."

Legolas was glad their prisoner could not see him - his eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Across the room, Tauriel stirred in the corner, having much the same reaction, and Legolas fervently hoped she would not do anything foolish in front of his father.

"I will repeat myself." his father continued, "One. last. time. What were you doing in my forest?"

The orc simpered and rasped in its own language for a moment, but then finally spoke up, speaking in Common laboriously, "Thirteen dwarves... headed for Erebor... Master wants Thorin Oakenshield's head!" The orc stopped here to cackle for a moment, then looked slyly at Tauriel, who had stepped forward into the room to hear better.

Legolas tightened his grip on the knife. The creature seemed not to notice.

"Thirteen dwarves... Soon twelve... Aye... One of them got a nice taste of black arrow... poison arrow, yess... I saws it... Dead in days. If that." It started to laugh, and then began to cough, the movement causing the knife to scrape it's throat, but was unable to still itself, its entire body shaking with mirth.

Realization hit Legolas completely a second later. The scene played itself smoothly in his mind as he remembered the dwarf Kili, being struck by the crossbow bolt as he moved to raise the grate...

A sharp, angry cry echoed across the room - Tauriel had just drawn the same conclusion. Her face was crumpled with grief and rage, and she traveled across the chamber in seconds, brandishing her knives as she went.

"You like to kill? You like killing things?" she snarled, moving to stab, "Here, let me show you-"

"Tauriel!" Thranduil‘s voice boomed. He did not shout, but it was no less an order.

She froze and looked at him, the blade a mere inch from the orc's chest. "Your Grace..." she began.

"Leave." Thranduil said simply, his voice steel, "Now."

Her footfalls echoed hurriedly down the hallway a moment later. Legolas was concerned, both at her breach of etiquette and the dwarf that had roused such a reaction in her. He was tempted to watch her leave, but his father was looking at him carefully, and so he averted his eyes.

"Now, orc... tell me more... and I will let you go..." his father continued, voice smooth as if nothing had happened.

The orc, perhaps feeling more cooperative after Tauriel nearly eviscerated it, began talking in broken Common. Legolas found himself confused by what was coming out of the creature's mouth, and disturbed by the strange, prideful tone that it spoke of them with.

It spoke of destruction. It spoke of fire. It spoke of all orcs uniting under the One.

It spoke no more after that - Legolas was aware of only movement, and then, with no warning and a queer look upon his face, Thranduil had drawn his sword and separated its head from its body. It took all of Legolas’s discipline to avoid letting out a cry of disgust as orc blood splashed down the front of him and pooled at his feet.

He dropped the head with disgust, stepping away from the still-twitching body. "Father, I thought you said we would let him go!" He was indignant and confused, both at the strange behavior his father was displaying, along with having never heard an orc babble such nonsense.

"And so I did." Thranduil replied, cleaning his sword of blood by wiping it on the back of the orc’s filthy garment. "I let his disgusting head free from his miserable body."

"What of what the creature was talking about?" he continued, "What is the One, father?"

Thranduil's lips thinned.

“Long ago, there was a great evil over the land. It has been long defeated. It appears our enemies enjoy spreading rumors.” Thranduil said shortly, inspecting his sword for any remaining blood. Satisfied that it was clean, he sheathed his weapon.

“Father, what of the orcs moving through Mirkwood-“ Legolas protested.

“I want the watch doubled and all the gates into the Kingdom shut. No one will go in or out unless it is by my leave.”

“But Father-! If left unchecked, these orcs-”

“That was an order, Legolas.” Thranduil turned his gaze away from his son, effectively dismissing him, now addressing the guards, “Someone clean up this mess! I want the carcass burned.”

 

…..

 

 

It shouldn’t have surprised him.

Legolas made his rounds of all the gates, ensuring the proper amount of personnel were manning them and all entryways were shut. He expected more grumbling among the guard, already stretched thin and tired after the days endeavors, but there was something in his voice and posture, and his every command was obeyed without protest or foot dragging. What had just transpired between him, his father and the orc was at the forefront of his thoughts, and he was in no mood to tolerate any insubordination.

Last he came to was the rear gate, the one they had exited when pursuing the dwarves.

“Orders of the King.” He said brusquely, his lines already well-rehearsed by now, “The guard is to be doubled, and all gates shut. No one will enter or exit without leave from the King.”

 “But Prince Legolas, what about Captain Tauriel?” one of the guards, a young elf named Lainor, asked.

“What about her?” He replied carefully, already knowing what was coming.

“She left out this gate some time ago, armed with her knife and bow. She has not yet returned.”

It shouldn’t have surprised him.

Somehow it still did.

 

…..

 

 

He found Tauriel at the overlook by the waterfall.

While looking for her, his mood had been black, and he had been angry, cursing her foolishness and insubordination, dreading what his father would say once they returned to Mirkwood.

However, now that Legolas saw her, he could not help himself pausing a moment to admire her, the cut on her cheek already knitted and nearly healed, the way her long fingers gripped her bow, her hair and clothing ruffling in the breeze as if it was separate from the rest of her body, statuesque and seeming both one with and delightfully foreign and alien from the ground she stood upon.

The fact that she was standing in the exact spot that he would have met death by an orc arrow, had it not been for her, seemed very poetic to him.

It was only because of the noise of the water that she had not heard him yet and so he started towards her, and was within ten meters before he stepped on a twig. She instantly reacted at the noise, drawing an arrow to her bow and aiming for his heart.

Her eyes widened with surprise and apology, even as she lowered her weapon, “I thought you were an orc!”

“If I was you’d be dead.”

At this she smiled gently, recognizing the jest. It melted his anger. The angry speech he had been rehearsing this entire way evaporated.

“Tauriel, what are you doing?” he sighed, instead.

As Legolas lost his resolve, Tauriel seemed to gain hers. She stood up straighter, “How can we sit by and let those orcs pass through our lands?”

“And you thought to take on all of the orcs alone.”

“But I am not alone.” Tauriel said calmly.

“You knew that I would come after you.”

At this she simply smiled at him, but it was all the answer he needed. Legolas fought the unwelcome butterflies rising in his stomach and the urge to return the gesture. It would not do to be enchanted by her at this time.

“Come back with me. You are my father’s favorite. He will forgive you.” He said, trying to put urgency in his voice.

 _I_ will forgive you, he wanted to add.

 “Over thirty orcs passed through our lands, Legolas. No one is doing anything about it. They attacked our prisoners. One of them may die-“ Tauriel protested.

His thoughts turned to the dwarf instantly, and Legolas felt a bitter wave of disappointment wash over him, closely tailed by anger and his old friend, jealousy.

“I did not realize you valued a single dwarf’s life over your own people.” He said coldly, not bothering to temper his expression so she could see the hurt on his face.

Tauriel’s face crumpled, both at his face and his tone.

“Legolas, you know I do not mean that!” she pleaded, “How much longer can we let this go on? You know more than I do, that there are evil things outside our borders. We have a place in this world! We cannot hide in Mirkwood while the world goes to war outside our borders!”

He was slightly heartened by her denial of the dwarf, but remained stubborn. “You know that is not our fight.”

“Yes it is! And it always will be!” She continued earnestly. “If the elves cannot fight evil, who can? We have a place and a job in this world. Whose fight will it be?”

Legolas thought of the orc earlier, babbling about destruction, war, and something mysterious called the One. He thought of the spiders, growing ever more numerous in Mirkwood Forest, surely spawning in Dol Guldor but was forbidden by the King by numerous decrees to attack by the source. He thought of Thranduil himself, so opposed to anything passing outside his own borders. He thought of the attack today, on their prisoners and on their kindred that left five good elves dead. 

He thought of Tauriel, standing before him, so earnest and full of purpose and wanting justice. Young. Reckless.  Lacking the poise and social decorum so needed for an elf, but instead being gifted with insight to perhaps see what needed to be done.

He realized that Tauriel was watching him carefully, and looked up to meet her eyes. They stood like this for a moment, until her lips curved faintly upward in a smile and she raised her eyebrows in inquiry. When she finally spoke, her voice was gentle, as if he was a wild beast in need of soothing. In some ways, he felt that way.

“Will you come with me, Legolas?”

The fact that she asked him to join her was merely a formality.

He knew in his heart that he had no choice in the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks again for everyone for reading/bookmarking/leaving kudos & comments. It makes my day that people like my story :)  
> 2\. I was dreading writing this chapter just because I felt it had lots of important dialogue, which I semi-remembered from the movie. As always, let me know what you think!  
> 3\. This will be my last update for a few days, I will be traveling to see my family for Christmas. I hope everyone has a very happy holiday! :) I plan on having the story completely done by New Years however!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 2x as long as the others... enjoy!

The orcs' trail led them to the mouth of the lake as clearly as any map. They were anything but subtle in their travels, and seemed determined to not only trample the ground directly below their feet, but to also go out of their way in order to destroy anything remotely in their path, as numerous felled saplings and slashed foliage testified.

Even a blind dwarf could have trailed these orcs, Legolas observed ruefully. He did not share this sentiment with Tauriel, who was several meters ahead of him. She did not need more dwarves on her mind.

At the lakeshore, the trail culminated in a cacophony of orc-prints in the mud, and then vanished. The implication of this was obvious. Legolas's spirits plummeted and he frowned.

"Who would give such foul creatures passage?" Tauriel cried, mirroring his thoughts. She crouched down by the prints, as if they defied belief, then looked to him, eyes wide and plaintitive.

Legolas did not have an answer for her. He felt helpless, wanting nothing more than to ease the distress upon her face. He averted his gaze, feeling her eyes upon him, and looked across the lake. The sun was sinking towards the horizon, and the light had a long, golden quality. They did not have much time.

"We must hurry." He said after a moment. "Surely they are not so bold to attack the town until nightfall."

He knew that this was not entirely true - The orcs had attacked Mirkwood in broad daylight. What would stop them from doing the same to a small fishing village?

"Do you truly believe that, Legolas?" Her tone was not accusatory, merely curious. Given another circumstance, her question would have pleased him. He knew few elves who would dare question himself or his father, as folly as their decisions might be.

As it was, he looked back to her. She was still crouched to the ground, her face open and regarding him. The light was complementary to her features and set them into sharp relief.

He considered responses.

_Yes. No. Of course not._

"We must hurry." he repeated simply.

 

.....

 

 

While it was true that a good portion of the Lake Town's income came from trade with the elves, most of the common folk had never seen one in the flesh before, and Legolas found himself and Tauriel being regarded with a strange mixture of suspicion and wonderment. The Men in the town, while not explicitly unfriendly, had been most unhelpful as far as any information regarding dwarves or orcs. The only useful information they received, in fact, was that the town had not yet been attacked by orcs.

Legolas briefly considered the merits of perhaps disguising themselves as Men, but it would be more effort than it was worth. Even if they managed to hide their more obvious physical features, their posture and mannerisms, as well as their particular enunciation of Common, would surely give them away.

The sun was sinking on the horizon, staining the sky a rich orange, when he and Tauriel took to the rooftops.

They settled on the eaves of a particularly tall building, centrally located with a view of the harbor and toll-gate, a chimney and dormer on the building providing some cover from prying eyes, if one of the Men down below chanced to look up at them.

Here they waited for nightfall, side by side.

The temperature was drastically colder here than in Mirkwood, thanks to the close proximity of both water and mountain. Elves had a higher tolerance for cold than Men, but still, Legolas attributed it to the cold and did not consider it unusual when Tauriel pressed very close to him, their legs touching from thigh to knee.

That did not stop a thrill running through him at the contact, but he pointedly tried to ignore such thoughts, and instead focused on watching over the town. It was marginally successful; there was increasingly nothing to see as the townspeople began retiring to their houses for the night, and his mind, unoccupied, proceeded to run wild.

 Additionally, he had to use all of his self control to avoid stealing glances at Tauriel, and felt exceedingly foolish for doing so.

A long silence passed between the two of them.

"Something troubles you, Legolas." she said quietly.

He looked at her - she was staring out resolutely over the lake - and opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off. "Beyond orcs."

Silence stretched out for several moments. He returned his gaze to the town below, watching an old fisher wife wrestling to bring a net inside her house, without really seeing the woman.

Legolas's mind was in turmoil as he struggled with what he wanted to say. What could he tell her? That he had grown impossibly fond of her, to the point where he wrestled his mind with telling his father? To consider pledging with her? That she appeared to prefer the company of a dwarf over him? That he had blatantly disobeyed his father to go on what may turn out to be a suicide mission for her?

"I left Ehtele'mele early to look for you." he finally said.

The fishwife down on the street finally succeeded in bringing the net inside and slammed her front door with a bang.

"I found you in the dungeons. You were otherwise occupied."

It was a confession and an accusation all in one. He tried to keep his voice neutral but the emotion slipped through anyways, and he could not help but frown.

He felt more than heard her a intake of breath, and Tauriel shifted her whole body suddenly to face him. Cold air bit at his leg where she had been sitting a moment ago.

He carefully avoided her eyes, an admirable act, as they were so close to each other. He could see the clouds from her breath at the corner of his vision.

"Oh Legolas." She murmured.

He felt her breath on his cheek, and feeling powerless, gave in and looked at her. She was close. She was very very close.

He had never been this close to her, and was aware of many things at once; her eyes, sad but expressive with something else he couldn't name, her clear, smooth complexion, the straight prow of her nose, the tilt of her mouth, the way the last vestige of sunlight caught her hair and set it smoldering.

She kissed him.

Legolas instantly felt like he had been doused in cold water. Initially, he was aware of only sensation - her smooth lips pressed against his, her eyes closed, lashes dark red against her cheek, the heat emanating off her.

Legolas closed his eyes in turn - It took him a moment to respond, but when he did, Tauriel's hands lighted upon his shoulders, gently pulling them closer together. Following her example and driven by a rashness he could not control, he took her face gently in both hands, moving them back to lace at the base of her skull, in her hair. He marveled at the thrill of it; the feel of her hair, of her skin, that he was finally touching her after so many idle daydreams. That she, in turn, was touching _him._

He had never been kissed before, minus a few times on the cheek, childhood games, but caught on quickly enough. To his surprise the kiss deepened, Tauriel parting her lips slightly, pressing more insistently against him. Her mouth tasted sweet, as if she had been drinking wine. Despite the cold, he felt like he was burning with fever, and she was hot to the touch.

There was a loud bang from the street below, and they both leaped apart from each other, clawing for their bows.

It was just the fisher wife, exiting her house again to an angry explanation from someone inside. The woman marched out into the street, grumbling to herself, and soon turned a corner and was lost.

He looked to Tauriel to see what she made of this. Her bow was clutched in her hand, face and muscles slowly relaxing as tension drained out of her. It astounded him how normal she looked, but the high flush upon her face, the mild disarray of her hair, and of course, the fact that she was nearly sitting in his lap, all betrayed that something else had been happening.

He imagined he looked similar, and felt a strange amount of appeal in the fact that sans weapons, they looked like any pair of elves caught kissing when they were not supposed to be.

Tauriel looked at him carefully, smiling hesitantly. The last light had faded from the sky and her hair looked almost brown in the dark. Despite the dusk, he could see how the cold was rapidly blanching the flush from her face. She then drew away from him, a pocket of frigid air moving to replace her next to him. He felt almost an ache as she did so.

 “That might have been for the best,” she whispered, placing her hand over his own briefly, before turning her attention back to the town beneath them.

Legolas felt simultaneously heartened and almost scandalous in an exciting sort of way. Public displays of affection were not something that elves _did,_ much less between a pair of elves that were not officially bonded. Granted, their half-hidden spot on the roof may not have been considered public, but Tauriel and himself were not a bonded couple.

This could only mean one thing.

His feelings were returned.

Very strongly.

He turned to her, “Tauriel, I-“

One of her hands clamped over his mouth like a vice, effectively silencing him.

“Shhh! Look!” She breathed, nearly imperceptivity jerking her head towards the toll gate.

They were some distance away, but he sighted them instantly.

Orcs.

He counted half of dozen of them, on the rooftops much as he and Tauriel were. He was certain there would be more on the ground.

“They are looking for something.” He said quietly. She gave no indication of hearing him, focused unwaveringly at the orcs.

A moment later a crash sounded and a young girl’s scream erupted into the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of fighting.

They found it.

He turned towards Tauriel, but found that she had already set off.

 

…..

 

Legolas reached the house, lighting upon the roof.  The building was poorly made to begin with, and then ravaged by the fighting, so that pieces of the walls and roofing were torn off. A commotion was going on inside, and a brief glance of red hair seen through one such hole in the shingles confirmed for him that Tauriel was alive and well.

There were a pair of orcs on the roofing – he made short work of the first with an arrow, and made to stab the next with his hunting knife. The orc leapt at him, so that the elven blade pierced it’s sternum and not its throat, as intended, and took Legolas down with its full bodyweight.

The weight was too much for the fragile roofing, and both orc and elf crashed through the rotted wood directly onto a large wooden table. Legolas let out a strangled cry at impact as the air was crushed out of his lungs and his back was slammed rudely into the solid wood. It did not stop him from drawing a knife and stabbing the orc in the throat as originally intended, sitting up and shoving the carcass away from him in one fluid movement.

He took stock of the situation in moments.

A pair of human girls were underneath the table, screaming. Three of the dwarves were in the room, two fighting with improvised weapons (a candlestick and a log, respectively), one lying upon the floor as if injured. A human Boy lingered in the corner by the fallen dwarf. Tauriel was locked in combat with a pair of orcs by the door, face painted in a grimace.

He heard a creak from above, and reacted just in time to send an arrow into the face of an orc who was drawing sights on them from the hole in the ceiling. The creature fell into the house, smacking against the table with a mighty crash.

The girls resumed their screaming with renewed fervor.

After a brief glance confirming that Tauriel was still holding her own, Legolas moved to assist the dwarves fighting with the candlestick and log. They had apparently brained the creature a few times but lacked the proper weaponry to finish it – Legolas’s blade in between its shoulder blades solved this problem.

Tauriel’s cry echoed around the room, and Legolas jerked around in alarm, but it was merely one of exertion as she finally got the best of her enemy, slashing angrily and kicking the body aside.

An uneasy calm settled over the room, now that the last orc was dead, and the fight (for now) won. This did not affect Tauriel’s bearing, she still looked as fierce as ever. Legolas thought that was when she was the most beautiful – right after battle.

He tried to meet her eyes, but she looked straight past him… to the dwarf on the ground. Immediately her face was one of concern and she swept across the room towards the dwarf and his fellows, who hovered protectively around him.

Legolas chanced a glance towards the dwarf and immediately regretted it. He would remember that ugly face anywhere. It was the dwarf Kili.

To be fair, the dwarf was deathly pale and covered in sweat. The matter of the orc’s poison arrow came to mind, but Legolas could not be satisfied with this predicament.

Not when he saw the way that Tauriel was looking at the dwarf.

She had never looked at _him_ that way, he was certain. Legolas felt instantly childish at this bubble of resentment and jealousy. She had asked _him_ to join her. She had kissed _him_ on the roof. _Him. Not_ the dwarf.

But didn’t the whole reason you came here was to _save_ the dwarf? came a traitorous thought, and he quickly banished it.

“Tauriel, I’m going to check the roof.” He told her. The dwarves and children looked up at him curiously – wondering at what he was saying in Elven, no doubt. Tauriel, however, barely acknowledged his presence, a slight nod of her head the only thing to show that she had even heard him.

He heard them engage her in Common as he left. Asking if she would help them and heal the dwarf Kili.

Had Legolas been a Man he would have slammed the door behind him to show his disgust. As it was, he was an elf, and climbed upon an adjacent building’s roof in order to keep watch.

For a few minutes it was peaceful. Legolas crouched behind a dormer as to not silhouette himself against the sky, and scanned the rooftops and streets below. Then the wind shifted.

He smelled the orcs before he heard or saw them.

 

…..

 

He returned back to the house to retrieve Tauriel several minutes later, steeling himself for what he might see inside.

He was not incorrect in his assumptions. As he entered the dwelling, six heads jerked round towards him in alarm at this intruder, only to relax upon seeing him. Another dwarf had appeared in his absence. Tauriel alone had not reacted to his entrance, and while this was not unexpected – she surely knew the tread of his boot by now – it bothered him.

“Master Elf.” One of the dwarves even ventured to say, as a way of greeting. Legolas ignored him, instead focusing on the scene before him.

The dwarf Kili was laid out on the wooden table, appearing unconscious, and Tauriel was attending to him, murmuring in Common and poking about his leg while she set the dwarves to grinding athelas with a pestle.

The sharp smell of the herb was pungent to his nose. Once a soothing scent, now Legolas thought he wanted to vomit upon smelling it.

“Tauriel.”

She stopped her administrations, and looked at him.

“There are at least two dozen orcs. They are setting to move. To Erebor or Mirkwood, I cannot say yet.” Here he paused. “Come with me.”

Her eyes softened, “Legolas, I am needed here. If I don’t do anything, he will die.”

“Tauriel, please.”

“I cannot sit here and do nothing-“

“I need you. Come with me.”

He did not like the silence that stretched between them at that moment, or the uncomfortable, almost helpless look in Tauriel’s eyes. The dwarves and children were stirring curiously at the exchange, wondering no doubt what the two elves were talking about.

Finally she lowered her gaze, “He will die.” Her voice was quiet but there was grit behind it.

“Tauriel. Come.” He addressed her this time as a Prince would address his Captain, cold authority in his voice. It was an order. Nothing more, and nothing less.

She did not look at him, merely at the dwarf. It was answer enough.

Still, he stayed for a moment more. One of the dwarves bumped the table and the dwarf Kili moaned with pain, clutching Tauriel’s wrist with one of his hands. Her eyes softened.

Legolas had had enough.

 

…..

 

He remembered accusing Tauriel earlier of putting the dwarf’s life above her whole kin. That might not have been true. But surely, she put the dwarf’s life above _him_.

In the end, what was the difference?

He managed to keep his expression stony as he left the cottage, and it froze that way as he set towards the boardwalk, where he had seen the orcs gathering.

He was in a black rage, and drew his sword, rather than bow, upon sighting the first half dozen of the orc pack. It was a foolish move, to take on so many at close range, with a weapon he was not the most skilled in. At this point, Legolas did not care.

He had never been reckless before. The idea of Thranduil’s son being a reckless elf was laughable, but even so, he relished the feeling as the orcs attacked him. Survival was solely dependent on his own limbs and wits. It took his mind off everything.

He slew a few of the orcs with moderate trouble, and it was only when he came to their leader, a scarred, pale monstrosity, that he faltered. The creature disarmed him and set to pummel him against the wall. They grappled, and finally came to a stalemate upon the arrival of several more orcs.

Legolas angrily set upon them, using his bow, using his knives, using everything. His nose was burning, where the large orc had punched him, and it merely fueled his anger. He fought harder, in a blind rage, barely remembering what he was doing, allowing muscle memory to do the work.

In a matter of minutes, he was victorious, surrounded by half a dozen fallen orcs. Their leader had escaped him.

He planned to remedy that.

 At that moment his nose gave a sharp bolt of pain, and he touched it gingerly. It did not appear broken, but he had a healthy nosebleed and another blow to his face would surely disable him for a bit.

Looking at the blood on his fingers was sobering, and he felt as if emerging from a deep fog. Legolas could count on his fingers how many times he had bled that much before, and most were childhood accidents. He thought of the five elves who lost their lives in the forest, and the way that Tauriel had shot an arrow out of midair in order to save his.

Thinking about her was painful to him, and he tried to banish that thought. Regardless, he would have to be more careful.

That did not stop him from stealing a horse and pursuing the orcs.

Later, In the back of his mind, Legolas hadn’t realized that he had believed that Tauriel would follow him, much as he had followed her. It was another disappointment that greeted him as he spurred the horse to a gallop.

No sign of Tauriel.

He tried to banish thoughts of Tauriel, of dwarves. To focus only on the problem at hand; orcs.

Easier said than done. He was headed to Erebor after all.

 

.....

 

 

fin.  
(to be continued...?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading/commenting/leaving kudos! It was incredibly gratifying (and motivating) to hear that you all like the story. Helped me stay in gear writing it as well ;)
> 
> Here we are, the end of our tale. I thought about taking this in lots of other directions, but ultimately, this idea was spawned as being a companion piece to the movie and as a companion piece it will remain. Perhaps the story will continue next year? ;) That being said, if you have any ideas/prompts or other things you want to see, feel free to leave me a message.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing it!
> 
> As always, let me know what you think! (good/bad/indifferent, I love feedback (and have a marvelously thick skin... don't be shy!)
> 
> \- ElenaT


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